Happiness
by sabineflowers
Summary: They say money can't buy happiness. But it can buy you food, water, and shelter, the three most essential ingredients to survival. Eruri, Modern AU, where Levi is a poor dishwasher struggling to get past the death of his friends, and Erwin is a paramedic who seems to know Levi a little better than expected.
1. Chapter 1

They say money can't buy happiness. But it can buy you food, water, and shelter, the three most essential ingredients to survival. Once the physical needs are met, the body can focus on emotional needs: feelings of safety, of belonging, of worth, of love. When money becomes the value of a person's physical and psychological needs, it can lead a person to be quite bitter.

So was the case of Levi Ackerman, living alone in his one bedroom apartment—barely livable by law. But despite the leaks, the peeling wallpaper, and the drafts in the poorly insulated walls, it was his home, and he kept it as tidy as he could under the circumstances. It wasn't much, but it was what he could afford. At twenty six, dishwashing at even a high-end pub wasn't enough to pay the rent on time; he was two months behind already, and his landlady was getting restless.

Four years ago, he'd tried going back to school—but having nowhere to stay but on his own and rooming with friends, he could never attend the classes he was paying so much for, because he'd been working. Eventually he'd had to withdraw, before the school board kicked him out for nonattendance. It was go to classes and have nowhere to live, or go to work and have a roof over his head; it wasn't as if he had any family to stay with, and he and his friends were poor as dirt.

Money was something Levi had never had much of, and something that he had come to the conclusion very early in live was the currency for happiness. Whether that was true or not, he only had evidence to support it.

Every morning, he had the same routine. He woke up at 5:57, just before his alarm went off, and laid in silence until it did; he'd look up at the cracked ceiling, wondering when it would inevitably start leaking above his mattress that still laid on the floor. When he'd first started renting there, he'd told himself he'd buy a bed frame with his next paycheck; that was three years ago. After his alarm finally went off, he'd drag himself out of bed, and head toward his shower. Then he would get dressed, have breakfast (usually just coffee), and head out with a cigarette to quell both hunger and his nicotine addiction.

"Hey, you wanna try this?" had been what started it: a friend, at sixteen, had offered him out a cigarette at a party.

Levi had shrugged, reaching out to take it; he'd coughed and choked at first, but that had been the start. It wasn't as if it was difficult to steal cigarettes from his uncle, whom he'd lived with at the time.

Shivering in the chill of the morning air, Levi sucked the toxins into his lungs without question. He always walked to work, huddled in an old hoodie with holes in the pockets. It was getting colder as the months went on, and he could've seen his breath even without the smoke. Ten years of smoking had left its mark upon him, and he knew the potentially more dangerous side effects, but he had never found it in himself to care, not once in ten years. If it killed him, then that was how he went. It wasn't as if he was doing much with his life anyway—as far as he saw it, he was stuck in this rut of poverty. Not to say he wanted to die—he didn't—but the nicotine addiction was stronger than his will to quit.

After a ten minute walk to work (he was lucky on that regard), it didn't take long for Levi to have clocked in and thrown an apron on over his plain black shirt and jeans. With one earbud in to play music—another small perk he appreciated—the day began, scrubbing dishes until his hands were red and cracked underneath his gloves. Plates of half eaten food came in from those who could afford to not eat or save every bit that they paid for, and Levi dumped the food into the trash, stomach sinking. But no matter how hungry he was, he would never eat after someone.

Then came the times when he had to go out and get the bus tubs from behind the bar, and he had to go out and face the bastards he was cleaning up after. They were always well off men and women in designer clothing, sipping at glasses of mimosas or whiskey (depending on the time of day), and Levi hated them for it. He hated that they had money to spend on needlessly expensive fashion, and drinks they had no business drinking—if anything, he thought, it was men like him who needed a drink the most. But he would simply collect his tub of dishes, scowling all the way back to the kitchen. If he didn't think about it, sometimes he could even forget the ache of tension in his shoulders.

That day, however, as he glared over the bar at those paying to drink their seemingly nonexistent problems away, he locked eyes with someone. A tall, blond man with cheekbones worthy of a statue, and piercing blue eyes that felt as though they could see right through him. Strange, as most customers avoid his gaze. It was clear he didn't belong in this environment—small, pinched faced, and hollow cheeks, he made a point to seem unapproachable. But this man just watched him, as if watching an interesting television show; Levi shot a glare back, and the man's lips twitched up. So the man wasn't a statue.

"Ackerman, what're you doing?"

Starting when the voice of the bartender interrupted his thoughts, Levi broke the blond man's gaze and just shook his head at the bartender. "Nothing," he muttered back. He grabbed the bus tub more roughly than was really necessary, trudging back through to the dish pit.

Why had he let his attention be taken like that? He'd known he was gay since he was a teenager, and yes, perhaps tall blonds were his type, but it was more than that. The man had seemed familiar, like he'd seen him before. Dismissing him as a return customer he'd never taken notice of before, Levi tried to focus on his job again, shoving the earbud back in. It was nothing he should be bothered with, he told himself. All that mattered was that he did his job, and earned his money. At the end of the day, what mattered was the hours he'd made and the cigarette he'd light on his walk home.

When a person is in the same room every day, silently bitter and dreading every moment he's there, it creates a negativity in the room that is almost tangible; most of the servers and chefs who dropped off dishes there kept their distance. They said nothing, and left the plates for him before they hurried out. That was how Levi liked it—he didn't exactly want to get chummy with any of his coworkers. There was one girl, a server, who occasionally tried to strike up conversation, however.

"Hey Levi," she chirped as she came in that day, a stack of plates in her arms. "You busy?"

Levi sent her a sarcastic smile, turning out more like a grimace. "No, never," he said, before sighing, and continuing to scrub at a particularly stubborn bit of gravy on a plate. Her plates were added to his pile, but she hadn't left. "What do you need, Petra?"

"I—I just wanted to see if you wanted to come out with us tomorrow night," she said, always a bit put off by his sour disposition. Still, her cheer was unshakeable that day. "Aorou invited me to go have drinks at the bar down the road, and uh…" She lowered her voice to continue. "I think he thinks it's a date…if you want to come along, invite friends, whatever—I'd appreciate it."

"You're inviting me out so you don't have to deal with him?" Levi said, glancing up at her with one thin, raised brow. Then he shrugged. He needed a night to relax occasionally, or he'd go completely insane. "Yeah sure. If I can think of anyone, I'll invite them too…" He trailed off, frowning down at the dish he'd been scrubbing since she'd come in; it was pretty damn clean by then, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Knowing his signs of anxiety, Petra offered a gentle smile. "I've been meaning to ask…how are you doing?" she asked softly. She paused, and when Levi didn't answer, she added, "I know you were close to—"

"I feel like I killed my best friends, Petra," Levi snapped, gaze coming up to glare at her. "Don't you have tables to get to?

"I uh—I'm sorry—sorry," Petra stammered, taking a step back. Seeming unable to think of anything else, she just said, "See you tomorrow," and hurried to leave.

Levi turned back to his work, trying to muster up enough energy to feel bad for snapping at her. But it had only been a year—the car crash that had killed his two best friends. They had been a better family to him than anyone else in his life, and he had killed them. He almost wanted Petra to come back, to tell her about the sleepless nights and—when he did fall asleep—how he saw their corpses behind his eyelids, mangled and bloody in the wreckage. He shouldn't have survived—especially so unharmed. The most he'd gotten was a concussion from the airbag, but in his half-broken car, the driver's side airbag was the only one that had deployed. Now there were two more graves in a yard of forgotten souls, marked Isabel Magnolia and Farlan Church, aged twenty and twenty four. He still hadn't visited the cemetery since the service, to which he was one of few attendants.

He, Isabel, and Farlan were all part of the same group: they had grown up on the bad side of town, on their own since they were teenagers for various reasons. Lacking a supportive, loving family, they had become their own. They had been like siblings, working together toward a better life. A car, even a shitty, rusted car like it was, had been a big occasion. Now Levi regretted every day that he had bought that junk pile, and not gotten it fixed up properly. Not that there had been the money for that…

What snapped Levi out of his thoughts was realizing that he'd been scrubbing the same plate for about five minutes straight: any more and he might snap it in half. Sighing, he put it down to dry, and moved on to the next one. One day, he'd have the life Isabel and Farlan had dreamed of. That much, he had silently promised them. Though he couldn't figure out why for the life of him, he had a feeling the blond man in the bar would be there too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:**

 **I'm going to update the rating to be higher, just because of the amount of gore that will be featured this chapter. There will probably be smut later on, but for this chapter, it's just for the gore. If gore, car crashes, etc. bother you, there will be a safer summary at the bottom of the page, and you can skip this first bit of italics!**

 **TWs for gore, car crashes, head injuries, blood, death, etc.**

 _Lifeless eyes watched him from the passenger's seat. The seatbelt was digging into his shoulder, but he couldn't get it off to get to his friend—red hair caved in and matted with blood, it was still bleeding—surely he could stop it. Surely he could save her, if he could just get this damned seatbelt off._

 _"Farlan—where's your knife?"_

 _There was no answer. Disoriented, it took Levi a moment to find the one he kept in his boot; once he was free, he realized that the car was tilted, crushed in around them—when had that happened? That wasn't important—what was important was stopping the bleeding in Isabel's head. It was difficult to reach her when the roof of the car was caved in, but he had a handkerchief in his pocket, and pressed it as best he could against the caved in skull. That was, until he realized that it was leaking a fluid that was not entirely blood. Trying not to gag, he turned to say something to Farlan in the back seat, only to be stunned into silence._

 _There was so much blood. Blood, and stringy, slippery organs spilling out of his friend's gut, coating the back seat that had been completely crushed. There was glass everywhere, tinted red as Farlan was dying before Levi's eyes. Most disturbing, he was desperately trying to keep his organs in his body with his hands, and Levi could only watch as the movements got slower, then stopped._

 _Through the ringing in his ears, he could vaguely hear sirens, and loud shouting. There was a lurch as the driver's side door was pulled at; apparently someone was trying to get in. All Levi could do was stare, as a medic finally reached in to him._

 _"Are you okay?"_

 _Levi couldn't respond, trapped by the eyes of his two best friends._

 _"Are you okay?" the voice repeated, firm and low._

 _He had killed them, he shouldn't have bought a car with only one working airbag-_

"Are you okay?"

Levi jerked awake, startled by the voice. "I—what?"

Above him was the same face he'd seen in the bar. Blond, well structured, and with striking blue eyes—it was surely the same man. He must have just nodded off during his lunch break, taken toward the back of the dining room—this man shouldn't have even noticed he was there. And yet, he was looking down at Levi with a concern that made his stomach roll.

"Are you okay?" he repeated one more time, voice slower this time. "You were…you looked like you were having a nightmare."

Strange, that voice was so much like the one in his dream—the man must've been calling out to him a few times before Levi had woken up. Realizing he still hadn't answered, Levi took a deep breath—enraged to find himself shaking—and looked down at his hands. Isabel's blood was no longer staining his hands, at least not physically. Finally, he looked up again, to find the blond man seeming very alarmed by his silence.

"Yeah…yeah," he muttered, rubbing at his face; he was coated in a cold sweat. Disgusting. "I must've fallen asleep. Sorry for disturbing your meal," he added, hoping the man wouldn't speak to the manager about the incident.

But the man, despite hesitating, smiled, like a beam of sunshine warming him after a cold night. "Don't worry about it," he said, patting Levi's shoulder. He must have felt the smaller man tense, because he quickly removed his hand. "I saw you earlier—you work here, right?"

Surprised the man hadn't left by now, Levi gave a short nod. What startled him even more, however, was the man putting out a hand to be shaken.

"Erwin Smith. I guess I'll be seeing you around, then?" he said, still smiling like the goddamn sun came out his ass.

Briefly, Levi shook the man's hand. His was still clammy, but enveloped in the other's much larger hand, he was grateful for the distraction. "Levi…and yeah, I guess," he echoed with a shrug. "I'm just the dishwasher."

"Well, the dishes have to be cleaned by someone," Erwin said kindly. Finally, he stood. "I'll leave you to it. I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks…see you."

As the man walked away, Levi was cursing himself for such an awkward first conversation—the man probably thought he was insane. God only knew what he was doing in his sleep to make Erwin notice and come over—Levi didn't want to think about it. He needed a cigarette.

By the time he was let off of work, he was smoking his third just of his walk home. What he wanted was to go home, read his book, have a drink, and go to bed. Maybe he would have enough in his bank account to pay his phone bill—currently the electronic only was useful as a music device and an internet browser. Unfortunately, it seemed that even more people would be bugging him that day; when he got home, his door was already unlocked.

Normally he might've been quite alarmed—even now, he kept his hand in his pocket, where he kept a knife he always had on his person. But opening the door revealed exactly who he'd expected: his best friend, and most obnoxious doctor, Hange Zoe. They were sitting at the shabby kitchen table, eating what appeared to be fried rice mixed with ketchup.

"Hange—what the fuck are you doing?" Levi demanded, pushing the door shut with his foot. "Don't you ever call first?"

The doctor shrugged, grinning up at him through thick glasses. "Your phone's always turned off—and hello to you too," they chimed; the most annoying thing about his best friend was that they were always excited about something. When Hange got serious, you knew you were in trouble. "I brought you Chinese, relax."

Though Levi was scowling at them, he sighed, sinking into the seat across from them only after slipping his sneakers off. "You still could've messaged me, I've got…Facebook or whatever bullshit it is," he muttered, pulling the tray of takeout toward him; it smelled amazing. Better than anything he'd had in days.

He and Hange had met through odd circumstances. After the car crash that had left both of his friends fatally wounded, Hange had been the one at the hospital to treat him for his concussion. They'd even been able to rouse a smile out of him, by accidentally making a poop joke. Since then, they'd become close friends—no one could replace Isabel and Farlan, but they had kept Levi from falling too deep into the pit of despair. Every time he started to fall, Hange picked him back up and made him laugh, even if they were often the most annoying person in his life.

"Whatever, look, I hadn't seen you in a few days, and I got bored," Hange replied, rolling their eyes. "I missed seeing your frowny face."

That just earned Hange a middle finger, though he was balancing a forkful of his own rice in his other hand. "And I missed your shitty glasses," he deadpanned back.

Without even having to ask, Hange updated Levi on their life—some of the weird patients, the diagnoses they were working on, how their cat was doing… Eventually, they ended up asking Levi about his day; he just shrugged, mentioning falling asleep, and the man who'd woken him up. He avoided the actual dream, knowing it would just worry Hange that he was having them still. It was better for them to think he only had them occasionally, when in reality they only knew when the nightmares were bad enough that he had to call them in the middle of the night in order to calm down. One of the perks of having a talkative friend was that they could distract him when he needed it most. That, and Hange seemed to be up at all hours of the day and night.

"Erwin Smith?" Hange now repeated, peering over their glasses at him. Something seemed to have struck a cord with them.

"What is it?"

Hange hesitated, scratching at the back of their ponytail. "The name sounds familiar…I think he works at the hospital."

Levi raised an eyebrow; what a coincidence. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think so," Hange confirmed, shrugging. "He's the tall blond guy? Eyebrows like caterpillars?"

"I wouldn't describe them like that, but—"

"So he wants to see you again?" Hange interrupted; as usual, they were reading too much into a simple "see you around."

Still, when they put it like that, Levi had to admit that it did sound somewhat suggestive—but he pushed the thought away. "It's not like that, Hang," he sighed, poking at the remains of his takeout. "He's probably just happy to know someone who isn't as crazy as his coworkers," he added, kicking them lightly under the table.

Seeming unaffected, Hange grinned at him. "Too bad he met you then—ha! You'll look like a kid next to him! Not that you don't already, but—"

"Hange! We're not going out!" Levi snapped, bringing their rambling to an end with a sour glare. "I don't have time for that shit anyway…"

For a moment, Hange gave him a look of sympathy that made him want to puke. "You've gotta get out some time, Levi," they said. Then they finally stood to leave. As they gathered their things, their eyes locked on the cigarette Levi was now bringing to his lips. "You'll kill yourself with these," they added, snatching it from his hand just as he was about to light it. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

"Well trust _me_ , I know," Levi grumbled; he was faster than Hange, and easily reached out and swiped it back. The sympathetic look had returned. "Stop looking at me like that, or I'll wipe it off your shitty face," he muttered. "And take a shower; you stink."

"Alright, alright…" But instead Hange stepped closer, giving him a tight, one armed hug.

He'd guessed right: they did stink. They must've just gotten off a night shift, judging by the bags under their eyes. But then, they both always had those.

"Just think about what I said," they continued, before pausing, looking down at him. "You've gotta have a life outside…this." They gestured at him as they backed up: at the cigarette, at the picture frames on shelves that were still pushed down, so he could avoid seeing the faces in them.

"My life is fine the way it is." But Levi could see how little Hange believed him.

"Is it?"

 **Safe summary of the italics:**

Levi woke up in a car after a crash, having hit his head; only his airbag had gone off, because the car was junk. Isabel, in the front seat, was fatally wounded. Levi then turned to the back seat, to find Farlan dying as well. Soon after, he started hearing sirens, and a paramedic opened his door. The medic called out to him, asking if he was alright-and then Levi woke up, realizing that the voice was actually Erwin in the restaurant asking if he was alright, because he was having a nightmare.

If this helps, I'll try do a quick summary at the end any time there's any major triggers, especially gory stuff. And if I don't, I will at the very least tag them in the beginning so you know what you're in for. Thanks for reading lovelies, and thank you for all the kind reviews!


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